Falling Westwards
by Nessingway
Summary: Lystra, Stormwind's minx, finds herself on an adventure to save Prince Anduin on her own means from the terror of Westfall. Chickens, Defias goons, and crazed old hags included.
1. The Escape

**ATTENTION:**

I _don't_ own World of Warcraft, as Blizzard does, but as often as this is said, I do own my lovely (not really) character, Lystra, and not much else at this point (Chapter 1). The plot has no game-related lore or history, and was simply created from my memory of playing this game that I so enjoyed for two years. I've ceased playing it, so take that into account as a lot of the things may or may not be right in comparison to the game. I've backed up a few things by researching WoWWikki and some other things, so most geography and things are on target.

[_**NOTE**: For people that just can't stand something being off_.]

I'll tell you now so you won't flame me. Or you still might, but it won't be about the obvious, silly things. Alright: These are just random thoughts that I've been suppressing for awhile. Secondly, I don't really care about levels and I don't think they really matter, as that would be dorky to use that in a story. FYI: All the names are actually names of NPCs in game, so if you want to get background, use the search bar to satisfy curiosity.

Alright! Enough of my ranting. Tell me if you hate it, love it. I don't care. Anything is nice. Anyways, perhaps give me a suggestion for a better name, because it is simply the consequence to thoughtless teenage thinking.

* * *

The cobblestone roads of Stormwind glimmered in the sheen that came in the early morning dew. Lystra's steps were mimicking a cat's, light and silent, though also making sure she would not slip on the thin layer of moisture. She would cause a ruckus and awaken the townspeople if she weren't careful. If anyone, _anyone,_ were to discover her escape, she would be watched day and night, never to be allowed to search for her Anduin Wrynn.

In reality, he wasn't necessarily _hers,_ but he would be. He would see her bravery, long eyelashes, and perfection. Or so she thought. Lystra Longdrink, why, she was none more than a meddlesome creature after vain hopes.

_If I were to find him, why, certainly King Varian would at the very least allow him to court me. Why, I have the Longdrink family name, one of the most noble names in all of Stormwind. With a few minor adjustments at Jelinek's Sharpshear's hair-place, why, I'd have the most regal countenance, _Lystra said to herself.

Lystra wasn't much of a thing – only sixteen years old, but her body was one that was the epitome of gauche with her lanky, tall body, and nonexistent curves. It wouldn't be surprising if someone mistook her for a boy. Her pale skin appeared wan in the contrast of her dirty, flax-colored hair. If any adjective were to describe her, _beautiful _would be one word not used on the lass, to her dissatisfaction.

Her father, Dungar, Stormwind's one and only flight master would never allow such imprudent, futile financial decisions to be made in his own household – why, he'd barely spend it on the good wine at the vendor's in the Canals. Why would he spend it on his worthless daughter's dresses and face? As he knew it, there wasn't any room for improvement – how could you improve irreversibly awful spawn?

* * *

"What's wrong with your clothes? It looks perfectly suitable to me," he'd ask her haggardly when Lystra would complain for hours among hours. When he saw his daughter, she was wearing _purple_. Having that color was hard enough to get by without having to barter for the material with the clothier at the canals. The dress didn't even have a sign that it was worn much at all.

"The garb is boring, papa. I've had to wear it _twice_ this week. I'm sure Anduin would notice if I had to go to the library at the city keep," she would say in her high-pitched, whiny squeal, a year before Anduin disappeared. It was the voice that most irritated her father.

_Like anyone would notice such a wretched creature_, her father thought to himself.

"What happened to your allowance I gave you the other day?" he asked instead.

"Can't you give me just, like, ten silver or so? I need some shoes and I have an appointment with the barber."

"_What?!"_

"Things are just _so _expensive for the pretty things. Can't you raise the allowance to fifty silver or a gold piece? Maybe then I wouldn't need to pester you! How can you be an honorable man without letting your daughter look _decent!?_" Lystra spat, emphasizing 'decent' and stomping away to her room upstairs, the largest room in the Longdrink's townhouse. It was conversations like those that strained their relationship. He would dream for an obedient, witty son at night, and her thoughts of her stubborn, passé father removed regret from running away.

* * *

Lystra stopped thinking about her father, as more pressing issues were going to be necessary to face. Two guards, a female and a male, were standing watch besides the few exits. They'd certainly be suspicious to see a young girl _stealthing_ two in the morning.

She stepped back, went inside the cheese store, and screamed, "Help! Get your hands off of me! Help! Someone!"

Because the people in there were only Elain Trias and Corbett Schneider, the town wanderer, Lystra thought it best to use that place as the perfect distraction. As she was hiding behind a few crates of what smelled unmistakably like Dalaran, the two unsuspecting guards came in and near tackled Corbett, who was leaning flirtatiously on the counter towards the mistress of cheese.

As they were getting matters settled, the young rogue silently left and sprinted across the Valley of Heroes, so quickly, in fact, that the dazed guards in the front of the gates didn't suspect a thing.

She crept up the dirt road until she found the stable at Goldshire where her horse, Gaellam, was kept until it was necessary to use his services.

She quietly and calmly saddled him and walked him to a grassy knoll half a league from the fencing. It had been long since she'd been afraid of the spiders and wild boars – instead she mounted and rode across fearlessly, until she and Gaellam leapt over the cliff. Before, doing it was something that scared her – but that was when she had an old, stiff horse, nearly too old to ride. In those times, Gaellam was only a foal.

Now she had a strong, beautiful black mare. From far away, she would look like a large, imposing figure to anything – the Defias Brotherhood, bears, and even the Horde, but she'd only seen those of the Horde when a raid of the terrifying bull-like creatures, the Forsaken, and elegant elves came around every so often. They had killed the last flight masters. She was sure if they were to come again, those terrible Horde folk, why, they'd probably kill her papa.

As she thought about it, they were the actually the reason why her father was able to transfer from the barren, dry Westfall to the grandeur of Stormwind. The last flight master, well, mistress, had been slaughtered by one of the Forsaken.

But if her father would die, perhaps the king would be so kind and offer her Anduin's hand in marriage out of pity?

She was nearing the edges of Elwynn and Westfall. It was the place that she knew only too well – the dry dust storms, gnolls, and Defias Harvesters.

Lystra came galloping at full speed, until she took notice of a depressing site: an old, bent woman leaning against her husband with a sickly horse beside her.

"Lystra! Is that you?" the old woman called out hoarsely in the darkness. She was hoping she hadn't gathered the wrong kind of attention – particularly not the Defias.

"Who are you?" Lystra said in return.

"My darling! I could recognize your voice anywhere! Come closer, dear, it's not safe."

"Wait... Aunt Verna?"

"The Defias overrun Theodore's farm, as you can see. We're too weak now to consider getting it back, but what our main concern as for the moment is Old Blanchy's food. He doesn't have his oats, and if we go to Sentinel Hill, we'll surely be attacked by the plethora of dangers out in this fallow land. We ask the guards on watch, but they ignore our cause, ignore our pleas. They care only for union with Stormwind, not the peaceful farmers who just want to continue on with our lives," she confided with Lystra.

"Oh, well, that's terrible, but I don't think I have any oats to spare," she mumbled, slightly embarrassed. She couldn't get caught up with the affairs around in this area – she had to go to the Deadmines, oh, she just had to! There was no time, would be nearly another hour before her escape would be revealed.

"Darling, if you could retrieve some from Farmer Saldean over yonder, I'd forever be grateful. There is a large bag of oats, enough for a day for Blanchy. One day is enough for us to get help at Goldshire, for surely someone there would have compassion for our cause. Just that sack of oats, please?" Verna begged. It was torture, truly, for Lystra. She had an agenda! She had only had an hour to enter into the infamous Deadmines before she would be tracked down by half of Stormwind.

Lystra grumbled a bit in thought, but managed to decide quickly. "Fine," she said, though cantankerously. She assumed that after she got the bag, her aunty would be thankful enough to keep her secret and direct the people who would come after her elsewhere. Anyways, if she were to become queen, why, she'd just have to learn to say "yes," when she'd much rather say "no."

Walking quietly to the shack, which used to be the beautiful Furlbrow Farmstead, she dodged overgrown weeds, the attacks of Harvest Watchers, and snakes that slithered beneath her feet.

She was wearing her long, coarse, woolly black cloak over her dull-grey leggings that clung uncomfortably in the wrong areas thanks to the hours of riding Gaellan. Her thin leather boots were barely any protection against the November chill and the silk dress covered over a doeskin vest and a black-bear tabard covered most of her torso. Lystra didn't belong to a guild, however, as her father wouldn't allow her to spend her life going on adventures to places like the Scarlet Monastery. The tabard was simply a gift from the tabard vendor by the Trade District when there was a surplus that year. As for her father, he planned on her becoming a volunteer at an orphanage or a happy, ignorant wife.

Lystra didn't really mind her father's concept, at least the "happy, ignorant wife" part, except that she would personally prefer "queen" in replacement to "wife." That was the reason she was going on this adventure – to have Anduin. She'd come back a hero, someone known for her courageous acts of love for the rest of time. Perhaps she'd have a book written about her in the library at Stormwind Keep?

She continued riding down south to Saldean's Farm. It was dry, ugly, and barren, but he still managed to keep it by bribing random people to kill the Defias Harvest Watchers whenever someone walked by. Nag, bribe, nag. It seemed that was all there was to these whiny Westfall inhabitants, at least to Lystra.

On the right edge from the farm, there lay a shack of oats, wheat, and all things that Aunt Verna was asking for. Lystra finally knew what all these quests were for; the Westfall farmers survived by _stealing _other farmer's things, but through the help of the very men and women who helped the thief.

As she was about to pick up the bag and transport it to the gunnysacks around her waist, an indistinguishable pain sent a spasm throughout her body.

She was about to yell, but a gloved hand muffled her scream. It was a man's voice; low, rough, and cool. "If you remain silent, you won't be harmed."


	2. The Abduction

**Disclaimer:** I don't own World of Warcraft, any of the characters besides Lystra and a few on the way, as Blizzard owns it (if I did, why, I'd be a wealthy girl). I apologize for the short chapter!

* * *

"Mmmm! Mmm!" That was all to be heard of Lystra's muffled screams, as the hand was much stronger than her attempts of restraint.

_My horse!_ _Oh dear Light,_ the girl suddenly thought to herself. She had just realized that she'd tied her horse to the shack where the oats had been placed as she tried to fill her bags. Her only consolation was that Gaellan would most indefinitely a decent supply of food until Saldean woke up to take notice of a foreign horse the next day, hopefully keeping it for his own purposes and giving it back to her when she asked for it.

But she wasn't that stupid. She'd have to save up money for a new stallion. _My money was on my horse, you idiot,_ she remembered. Her plan was spoiled at the very best. Now she had to figure out a way to save someone even more important than Anduin Wrynn – herself.

The captor had Lystra thrown over his back, her mouth tied with a piece of red linen tightly. He smiled to himself with his catch – perhaps he found himself a perfect bride? _A feisty one, perhaps, but she'll make do, _he said to himself.

The captor was a hermit-like and a somewhat lowly Defias Looter. Duncan Swift was built like a young adolescent, mainly because he was still a young adolescent. He had hair as dark as night, an average peasant face, and a tall, lithe body. Unfortunately for Duncan, he was too young to be drinking with the older men at the abandoned farmhouses, but too old to just sit around finding ways to kill the local snakes. He knew that staying with the Defias troupe was more like suicide – forget that patriotic death. The whole business of anarchy had begun before he could even be recruited with the stonemasons.

"Oh, stop your groans! Get off yer arse and find yerself a woman. You'll have to start a family sometime, as it doesn't look like yer going to get anywhere in this business," his friend, Harlan, said to him earlier that evening.

He decided to just that – change out of his rogue clothes and spend a day looking for a lass.

Duncan had given up all hope, going towards his home in the dilapidated barn several leagues from Sentinel. He was walking with an unnerved step, ignoring the pleasant cool wind which he normally took notice of, the softness of the soil of which he was treading. Every single female he had encountered had turned him down. They told him to come back when he was a _man._ Yeah, he'll come back all right – when prettier girls come around. The only options were a stumpy dwarf, an old mage, and the ugly innkeeper's daughter. Where else would he find a girl? All the Defias women were ladies fresh from the taverns of Stormwind or widows who needed to find a way to pay off debt. If a young man of seventeen were looking for a bride, why, an old spinster wouldn't be good at all.

_Maybe Harlan was right... Growing a beard would do me well. Wasn't Old Anne talking about this elixir from Pestle's Apothecary in Stormwind? _Duncan mumbled to himself as he continued walking.

It really was his luck, however, when he found Lystra just standing there filling up her bags with oats. What he first thought was another evening steal became more valuable than gold. It was like Edward VanCleef himself placed a lass right in front of his nose to be picked up. Of course, he couldn't see Lystra in her full repulsion, but in her pretty clothes and hooded cloak, she never looked like anything better to Duncan.

_If I can't woo one myself, I'll woo one by force,_ he thought simply.

He had no idea what he was getting himself into.


	3. The Visitors

**Disclaimer: **Again? *sigh* I don't own anything by Blizzard, Wow, the Smurfs, and Michael Jackson. :) The only things that belong to me are Duncan, Lystra, Harlan, and some random folk.

* * *

After Duncan's long walk with Lystra over his shoulder, he was getting tired, though he wouldn't admit it himself. There were, fortunately, only a few more steps until he would reach his home – a decrepit barn house with plenty of hay to sleep on. Each step on the sand sent his legs writhing in pain, but he knew that it would be worth it. He repeated to himself with each pace, _"_A bride, a bride, a bride."

Harlan would be there, unless they needed someone at Moonbrook. If he were at home, he would help Duncan with his situation; maybe get this girl to lighten up._ Won't he be surprised when he sees me with a girl? I beat him to getting a bride before he did, _he thought with a smirk. He lit a wax candle as he stepped into building. From beneath him, the wood creaked with age, causing Lystra to squirm, still resisting after all that time over a person's shoulder.

He knocked three times and called out, "Harlan?"

"Erghaab… Dungaaa?"

Duncan knew that with response, the old soldier was drunk. A bad day with the pillagers, most likely, which happened on most Wednesdays. The entire place reeked of the famous Thunderbrew Lager, and with the candlelight, he could see mugs of the ale in various locations around the room, and one on top of Harlan himself, sleeping in intoxicated stupor up on the loft.

With that small amount of illumination, he placed Lystra gently on the hay by himself and tied rope to her legs and hands. It wasn't necessary to do that before, as she was safely over his shoulders, but now, in the barn, she might run into a pole when she would try to escape. Why, if they were getting married, that'd be no proper way to carry out their relationship that had barely blossomed.

After he was finished with the rope, he took off the cloth from her mouth while his fingers brushed her cool, soft skin.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" was the first thing Lystra spat. A whisper had never sounded so vicious. Her high, squeaky voice broke quivering with worry.

"Shh! You'll wake up Harlan," he whispered in reply.

"I said get your hands off of me!"

"Can you tell me your name, darling?"

Her response was a spit on the floor.

"Tell me your name!"

"No!"

"Fine, we'll just get married without your name."

"_What?_"

"I found you, you're mine, and now you're going to be bride," he said curtly, frustrated with her stubbornness and somewhat regretting even stealing away a girl, now. He always thought girls were nice and pliable. Not like this.

"No, no, no, no," she muttered, and then began sobbing hysterically, unsure of what would happen to her. Duncan shuffled awkwardly to where he normally slept, conveniently far, far away from the girl.

The world as she knew it was collapsing, her plans failing, and most of all, her father ending up being right. She was a failure, a dunce._ Lystra, get a hold of yourself. This is outrageous. You'll find a way to get Anduin Wrynn and you won't be a bride to some nameless peasant. You'll be a queen, yes, a queen. A pretty, attractive queen, just in a situation that isn't that good. Why, in a few years, a history inscriptor will be writing this down. You won't be a bride, you won't be a bride, _she assured herself.

"Go to sleep. I can't sleep with someone sniffling all night," Duncan mumbled. As Lystra garbled in reply, the rest of the night wore on. Her continued sniffling, Harlan's loud breathing, and his quick pulse, due to this entire circumstance, seemed amplified that night

* * *

He woke up that morning after a hard night. Duncan remembered that he had things to do – first of which getting food for his bride, whose name he didn't know. Fish? Oatmeal? He grabbed something in the food crate at the edge of the room, which happened to be moldy bread. The timing was just right – it was five or so, as dawn was breaking over the horizon. He'd still have time to steal some breakfast things from Farmer Saldean's kitchen. The two old cows would be sleeping – Thursday was the day of rest for those worshipers of the Light. He knew better than to believe that, as the majority of the Defias were agnostic.

The bitter morning wind slapped his face as he stepped outside. His torn leather garb looked like a speck of dirt amidst the barren landscape that surrounded him. He had a horse in the back that he road to Farmer Saldean's farmstead, which took only an hour there and back in contrast to the three-hour walk with a girl on his back.

He could only laugh at how everything was out in the open – the door, the chickens, the bins of crop, and even a beautiful black steed only tied to a beam with a leather rope. "Watch the Light save your stuff after I tell the Brotherhood about this," he said sarcastically to himself.

Creeping silently into the building, he found a meat pie baked on the counter and eggs cushioned by hay in a crate. He placed it all carefully in his satchel and went back onto his horse. He had places to go before he went home to his wife-to-be just yet.

* * *

"Did you hear that? Just all that stuff laying 'round there in the open. It's a wonder that we haven't noticed it before," said Fiona, one of the young recruits at Molsen's farm.

"Nah, we got our hands on them farmers enough. Them machines do the trick to get food for us. We gets our horses from the Lumber Mill by that James who lives there," an old man said, condescendingly. He liked little girls as much as he liked little boys, which wasn't at all.

"But still, there's just a lot of stuff there. A horse!"

"Shut yer trap, Fiona. We get any more peoples there, we don't have any people at the places we need them to be. Get your damn arse back to work, you useless goat."

Fiona, a young girl of thirteen, was less disturbed by her treatment as to missing a fantastic chance of getting all sorts of treasures. A good reason why she was even troubled by this, was because of Duncan. He was that tall, dark, and handsome kind of man that she desired, not like the old men who would bother her. With her own horse, she'd be able to ride into the sunset with Duncan on the beach. They'd be married, get out of this business of stealing and murdering, and maybe have a farm somewhere in the Arathi Highlands. No more brothels she would have to go to, no more jerks who'd push her around.

She didn't even like the Defias people. Her mother was one of the bodyguards for Vancleef at a time, getting pregnant by her father, a pirate. However, both her parents were the kind of people that were disposable from the time they got the position. Most people who worked in the Deadmines knew the risk when they took up the job. Almost a year after she was born, they were killed by a raid of dwarfs and gnomes. She'd get her revenge on those sick stubby people, maybe before she'd get married to Duncan.

This was the reason why she sprinting down to Saldean's place to get that beautiful mare that he was going on and on about. A horse and a chicken would finally raise her reputation with these disagreeable people, and hopefully with Duncan.

It was nearly an hour before she found the chance to leave. There was always _someone_ around making sure she wasn't up to anything, but a group of mages and hunters came around, prepared to kill ruthlessly. Everyone was leaving, including her. She took her only chance and was well on her way to the place she needed to be.

The horse was exactly as Duncan described it; beautiful, gallant, black. The best part was that with her knife, she'd be able to get a hold of the reins before long. As she was mounting the imposing beast, she felt something on her leg. It was food, gold, clothes, and _jewelry_.

_It's all mine, it really is, _she thought, in awe that she had gotten something so effortlessly.

* * *

"Harlan, can you believe it? You won't believe what I found when I was getting breakfast, " Duncan said as he strode into the barn. He was happy for the moment. He had some breakfast for his bride, good news for his mate, and a lovely bride awaiting him…

But with the light shining brightly into the building, he saw Lystra's face for the first time. His cheerfulness was replaced with an expression so aghast, it seemed that the Forsaken would be more alive in comparison.

There before him lay a lanky, unshapely, _repulsive_ creature. Hadn't he carried her for nearly an entire league? Wouldn't he have _felt _her shape? Girls weren't supposed to look like that, not like a murloc, a troll. Her face was wan, her hair disheveled, eyes too far apart, lips too thin. She was _embarrassing. _

"Duncan… It seemed as though you finally got a wife. I just wasn't aware that you were drunk while you picked her up," he said to him, laughing at the both of them.

"I wasn't aware how drunk I was either…"

Lystra moved over and scowled at them both. "Oh, yes, just act like I'm not here."

"Oh, she talks," Harlan said sarcastically, "at least she talks pretty, eh?"

"I might as well be unbound, as we're both wasting our time staying here. I have things to attend to before my parents come after me."

"Aye, you should let her go. You can do better than _that_, Duncan."

Before either could reply, however, the door sounded with an ear-deafening _CRACK_.

"Stormwind Guard! Surrender now or face the Holy Wrath of the Light!" a loud voice said from only a few meters away.

The only response came from Lystra in a quiet voice.

"Damn it, Verna."


	4. An Encounter

**Another disclaimer?! **- I don't own WoW, Blizzard, any of these NPCs, or even my own toes (the cold owns them now).

_**-PLEASE READ-**_  
Like all my stories, they are utterly fantastic (note the cringe-worthy sarcasm), but however, if this chapter just really blows, is terribly boring, or if anything is wrong, please tell me. All you need to do is write just a review or send me a PM, whether you flame me while writing it, as long as it gets to the point, I'm good. I'll admit it -- reviews cause my world to experience an unnameable ecstasy when my e-mail alerts me about some new review.

Have a lovely read. :]

* * *

The sounds of splintering wood and metal became louder, giving Harlan, Duncan, and Lystra only a few moments to get out of the house.

Harlan cast a look Duncan, which pretty much said, "Well, I know you're kind of in a bad situation, but hey, it's not really my problem."

"H-Harlan!"

"Sorry lad, but I'm not going to risk this," Harlan said with a wink as he jumped through an opening in the back. "Don't worry, you're a smart one."

"Wait, I'm coming with you!"

However, Lystra hobbled over the hay and started heading towards where Duncan was, and said, "Don't even _consider_ leaving me here with these pious twats." She, still bound with uncomfortable ropes, was extremely irritated. If the guards would take her back, her father would never let her go anywhere. He'd get her married and become boring, fat, and stupid, just like her mother.

"Ah, save yourself, boy. You don't need to worry about an ugly little thing!" the old man said, already outside in the sun, beckoning Duncan towards him. The guards were already bashing the front opening.

"Go ahead, leave me, and I'll tell everyone how I was kidnapped by two Defias men. In a few days, your bodies will be mangled atop the gates of King Varian's city," she lied. Her threat did seem believable, though, as she was still tied in ropes and looked like a convincible victim. In reality, however, she had about as much voice in the city as the mice did. It was worth a shot, though.

Duncan glanced at Harlan, then Lystra. Either way, there would be a good chance that he would die, and threw the nymph over his shoulder and jumped through the opening.

Harlan whispered, "Gah, you stupid thing. Why'd you do something like that?" The guards got in almost as soon as Duncan had gotten out with Lystra, searching the building feverishly for several minutes. Knowing that any sudden movements would be cause for suspicion, they stayed where they were until the guards left.

"Ol' Verna Furlbrow finally lost 'er wits. Just looks like another abandoned barn to me," a guard said at last.

"I did hear a sound when we came in, though," another voice added.

"Probably some mice."

"Eh, right. Come on, let's check Sentinel and then go back to the city."

"Aye, then. Let's go."

Finally, at last, the guards had left to go south. When they were a little more than an earshot away, the trio had left and saddled the horses.

It was a silent ride to Morsen's farm. They had taken the back roads to get there to ensure they wouldn't meet the guards. Dead weeds, shriveled animals, and the stark landscape faded away as they galloped onwards. Talking was a limited to a few grunts and nods until Harlan decided to strike a conversation with Lystra.

"Aye, so you probably know why those guards were coming?"

"Hmph."

"Ah, come on, lassy. You can tell us."

"I don't want to talk about it," she said stubbornly. Things were racing in her head. She didn't want to stay with these two nitwits, but she didn't have anywhere to go. The only way she could come back home was if she had Anduin by her side, the beautiful blonde haired man, so gallant, so perfect.

"Harlan, why are we going this way?" Duncan said, trying to shift the conversation to a neutral topic.

"We don't have many options besides, lad."

--

Fiona came back with her horse, but it was still empty around Morsen's farm. She put Gaellam in the stables and wrote on a piece of wood, "_FYONE'S HERSE."_ Unfortunately, her spelling was poor, just like her grammar, so she often misspelled most things, like her own name. However, to the rest of the Defias community, most were illiterate.

Fiona walked out of the stables and decided to look for some people. She noticed a couple carrying bodies to the bonfire where they usually took the deceased after a major attack. Looking around, most of the people hadn't come around yet, so she decided to help with disposing the dead.

A few people were killed at least in the mile-radius from the farm. The people she was able to identify was the badly charred body of the man who belittled her often, three of her friends a few hundred meters away, and about a dozen of unidentifiable people. With them, she was able to dispose their bodies easily.

However, a dwarf hunter lay face down in the sand, his pet still alive. It was a huge white bear, mourning for the loss of his master. When she tried to get near the dwarf, the bear refused her from coming near the body.

In an attempt to lure the bear away, she took some of the food in the bags that were on her horse when she found it. If she didn't have the bear moved before the rest came, the blame would be solely on her and they'd probably kill the bear. Everything that she took out of the bag had no effect on the beast. From Dalaran cheese to blasted boar ribs, it was to no avail. Alas, she found some okra as her last chance to sway the bear to leave.

Fiona was lucky, however, for the bear was somewhat domesticated by the long friendship with the dwarf. If it were still wild, he would've probably attacked Fiona at first sight. The bear's name was actually Gordy, the naming tag on the bottom of it's left paw. Eating from the palm of her hand, Fiona had found herself with a new companion.

--

Duncan, Harlan, and Lystra arrived to Morsen's farm an hour after they departed, but to their surprise, it was empty.

"Looks like they had a pretty bad hit," Duncan said, noting the bloodstained weeds around the property. The group looked around after hearing his comment, seeing some bodies around the yard in various places.

Harlan whistled lowly and started heading towards the stables a few feet away and said, "Let's get these horses up b'fore we figure out what's going on." As they neared it, Lystra looked at a large, black mare and let out an ear deafening shrill.

--

Fiona, as she was petting the hefty bear, heard a scream. She jumped, the bear jumped, they hit each other and Gordy gnashed his teeth.

Running towards the area of the noise, she noted that it came from the stables, the place where a girl was opening the fence to take saddle_ her_ horse.

"Just whatyer think yer doing?! That's _my _horse!" she said loudly, hands at her mouth to amplify the sound. She wasn't sure who the people were, but they looked like three tall men, so she left some distance between herself and them to provide space to run in case they would start chasing her.

"_What?_ This is my horse and why it's here is beyond me," said Lystra in reply, irritated that some rambunctious child would be telling her otherwise. She knew her Gaellam, from the speckle of white behind its ear to the way he neighed

Fiona came up, noting that it was a girl who she was arguing with. She could manage girls, but not three men. Poking a finger at Lystra's stomach, as that was all she could really reach, she said, "Maybe if you found the horse at Saldean's, it'd be yers, but I found it. Now it's mine, so _get out_."

"Do I really have to explain this?" Lystra said, rolling her eyes. "I came here on private business, then he, this one," pointing at Duncan, "decided he would steal someone so he'd have himself a bride. Now it happened to be that my horse was still tied to a post at Saldean's farm before I was able to say anything about it. I'm taking him back."

A bride? Duncan? _Her?_ Those were the only words sounded in Lystra's ear. The fact of a horse's ownership seemed trivial in comparison to this catastrophic event – Duncan was getting married to someone beside herself. How could she be so stupid? So obvious? So un-ladylike in the presence of the only man she thought she'd have a chance with?

Fiona looked at Lystra and then Duncan, her face flushing from the embarrassment. Her body and instinct unanimously decided, without consent of the mind, to run in the other direction, away from anything, away from _them. _


	5. Discovery

My apologies! I haven't updated in such a long time. I don't really have an excuse, besides school and such, mainly because I'm boggled down with my choir solos, homework, piano, and drama (drama _club_ that is). I figured I'll just put my other things aside and just finish this chapter now. Review please, and tell me what was mediocre, things to fix. Even if you don't have any suggestions, say something. :]

--

It seemed like Fiona was running for _ages. _Each step was a step with determination and frustration. She wasn't sure which direction she was running – she was absolutely oblivious when it came to the whole north, east, south, and west for some reason.

In reality, however, she was running for only about fifteen minutes and she was quite out of breath. She was sputtering and in desperate need of water, but she luckily did have a canteen of water on her person.

After taking a long drink of her musty water, she heard a strange noise from behind her. It was faint, but still her hopes shot high, thinking of only the best, thinking of _Duncan. _She imagined his long brown hair blowing in the wind as he ran to her, apologies spewing out of his mouth about the whole ordeal.

She turned around to see not Duncan, but the bear that she had fed earlier. It had a few blood stains on its side, evidence that someone had recently stabbed it. It was stumbling upon the unforgiving ground, crying out in pain every few moments.

"Ye' stupid, stupid bear_," _Fiona muttered quietly under her breath as she hustled up to Gordy. Fatigued from following the girl, the large and heavy animal fell to the ground. Gordy had tried to protect his owner's corpse, but the Defias men and women had returned to attack it. With his master, the two would've been able to accomplish a feat like that, but on his lonesome, he was hopeless.

She still had her pack she had taken from the horse when she was last at Saldean's, but she knew the only thing that would settle for bandages were either her own linen, or things found in the gunnysack.

In her modesty, she chose to find something in the sack that would stop the bleeding, rather than changing clothes out in the open. A thick leather vest, linen tights, and a shirt were the only things she had found, along with food and money. Considering her choices, she tore the linen tights to make a long bandage that could almost wrap around the entire bear. Fiona cleaned the wound, despite the restraint from Gordy. She found herself trying to wrap the cloth around the diameter of the bear's belly, a feat that wasn't easy alone.

"Wrestling a bear, are you?" she heard from behind her. She turned around hastily to see a lanky boy sporting a wry grin on face. He had uncombed curls the color of curdled milk on his head and his clothes looked like they were once nice, but were gray from overuse.

"Just, _er_, trying to get this blasted thing around him," she said haggardly, straddling the bear from the back. She looked like she was riding him, as though she were a part of a bear cavalry. "I'd like help, you know."

An hour later, they had finally accomplished the task of wrapping up the animal with Lystra's old linen pants. Had Lystra learned that her own articles of clothing were ripped for the benefit of a bear, she would've been enraged. Rather, she was mounting her horse to find Verna Furlbrow.

* * *

"What are ye' up to now?" Harlan asked Lystra as she mounted her black stead. He had begun growing a fancy to this girl, yet she had not found herself reciprocating those feelings. He liked the way her hair danced in the wind, shined in the sun, and the way her lips moved as she talked. Everything about her just screamed desire to Harlan, who was nearly ten years her senior at the age of twenty-seven. He wanted something young, something naïve. Unlike Duncan, her face began to grow less repulsive each time he saw her.

"I'm going."

"Aye, a lassie like you shouldn't be just _going_."

She didn't dignify his answer with a response and simply rode away on her horse. Harlan, surprised, decided to take his own horse and follow after her.

Lystra rode for quite some time, following the road, but had noticed a large white figure near the fork. She galloped towards it, curious to see what would be there.

As she came closer, she noted there a bear, her horse-stealer, and a blond-headed boy.

--

Fiona was quite accustomed to being interrupted. At the sound of galloping, she ignored the noise, expecting anything – from an old hag to Edward VanCleef himself. She didn't look up until she heard the voice that belonged to the vilest person for leagues.

"What a pleasant surprise, thief," Lystra said, venom flowing from her voice. She seemed so gallant up on her horse, appearing as though she had authority. Fiona looked at her, feeling as insignificant as she had when she ran off. She didn't think that of all people, this wench would be the one to follow her.

Lystra looked at the boy with disdain. He looked like another lowly peasant to her, and she simply told him, "Hmph, who are you?"

Lystra never really met Anduin Wrynn, nor knew what he looked like in person. Her friends at finishing school told her that he was simply the finest young man. In her imagination, Anduin Wrynn was a tall, strong, and valiant man, much like her father. He was exactly who you would expect a king to be. Most of all, she wasn't aware that he was only fourteen.

"Milady, pleased to meet you," he said, smiling largely. He also thrust his hand out, expecting her to do it also to practice a simple polite gesture. After he realized she wasn't going to offer her hand, he shuffled back a few steps and put his hands in his pockets. "I'm Andy."

"Well, I need to go and do important business and I hope not to see _you_ again," Lystra said to Fiona as she galloped off, brushing off Anduin's polite greetings, deeming him insignificant to her.

"Stupid, good-for-nothing, horse-stealin' wench is what you are," Fiona muttered beneath her breath.

"What?" Anduin asked.

"Nothin'. Do you have any food with ya? I'm famished right now, you know."

"Eh, just a bit in my satchel. Rye and sausage fine?"

Fiona grabbed the parcels of food hungrily and began eating, while Anduin simply stood in awe as he saw the girl eating with such an uncivilized manner. He took a bit of his own food sheepishly and they both ate in silence.

During this time that they were eating, Anduin began to think about where he was going next. He had abandoned his title as Prince of Stormwind, mostly because he was absolutely sick of the culture and expectations that the city was burdening him with. He wanted to fight and have adventure; not rule a city. He did have the wisdom, but not the taste for it. After ruling a city for a few years, he was absolutely certain that politics wasn't something he wanted to dedicate his life to.

Anduin was gone a year or so before Lystra had decided to set out for him. Although Varian Wynn knew of the reason of his departure, the council had decided it'd be best to just say that some opposing force had kidnapped him after saying that he was on a delayed trip at Theramore with Jaina. Varian assumed he would come back, but wasn't aware that Anduin had no intention of doing so.

It was on a trip to the Dustwallow Marshes that he had decided that he would finally begin to run away. He managed to befriend Tabitha and have her give him directions to get to Mudsprocket during his few evening strolls.

From there he took a boat to Booty Bay and managed his way upwards to explore all of the lands that he hadn't been able to experience before as a prince.

He looked around and found himself content. No sign of Stormwind during the entire year and found himself in a comfortable situation. _No enemies yet,_ he said to himself.

He turned to look at Fiona, who herself was staring intently at a speck just over the horizon. When he followed her gaze, he found three horses and a load of the Sentinel Hill Militia charging towards them in their direction. In the front, Lystra Longdrink was leading the human stampede while two Stormwind guards on their mounts followed.


End file.
